


A Spirit a Lady and a Lake

by DollopheadedMerlin



Series: A King a Queen and a Warlock [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual!Merlin, Asexuality, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polygamy, ace - Freeform, ace!merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollopheadedMerlin/pseuds/DollopheadedMerlin
Summary: Though Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen had been happily settled in their relationship, things go awry when spirits disturb their trust in one another on Samhain.[Sequel to A King a Queen and a Warlock]





	

Arthur and Gwen could understand. Merlin didn’t exactly have the best of experiences with the winter solstice. Ever since the dorocha epidemic Merlin never really felt well during Samhain. Gaius believed it was due to the rift in the veil between the worlds when Morgana had released the spirits of the damned. He said that the balance between the realms would be off around this time for a few years to come. Only once the veil was fully restored overtime would everything stabilize. Merlin alone, with his immeasurable power, could feel how unsteady the border was during the start of winter, when it was at its thinnest.

Merlin had the suspicion that echoes of the dead were able to pass through during the solstice. He always felt as though there was someone watching him. Thus, he sat with shoulders tense beside his king as he called out a toast to the start of winter.

Feeling nauseous, Merlin stood and held out his glass, hand shaking nervously. He dared not blink lest a ghostly figure appear amidst their toast once more.

The company cheered and goblets clashed as doves were conjured by a few of the palace magicians. Merlin gulped down his wine, hoping to numb the horrid feeling he had.

When they sat down, Arthur took his hand in his. “Relax,” he murmured. “Right now, there is no threat to anyone. All are safe.”

“The veil itself is a threat,” Merlin whispered. “If it's got my magic stirring, I can’t imagine how excited it's gotten every other magical beast out there.”

Arthur hummed and encouraged Merlin to eat, only to have the boy declare that he wasn't hungry. He spent the remainder of the feast watching the celebrations and trying to enjoy the sound of Arthur and Gwen communing beside him.

All in all the feast went well, the most terrible thing having happened being Gwaine getting horrifically rejected by a lady he had attempted to woo.

Merlin followed the king and queen back to bed, slugging behind them as his magic churned inside him. He felt guilty asking that he sleep with them tonight, thinking he'd be less of a bother having nightmares in his own bed, but he wasn't really feeling enough at ease to let the two of them out of his sight.

A bit drunk and extremely uneasy, Merlin threw himself into bed beside Arthur, breathing heavily through his nose. Arthur and Gwen shared a concerned look as Merlin closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. Trying to be understanding of something neither of them could ever comprehend, they let Merlin be, hoping he’d get enough sleep to appreciate the dawn of a new day.

  


In the early hours of the morning, Arthur shifted in his sleep, habitually reaching out until he found Merlin’s hand. The boy hummed and wriggled under the covers until he could settle comfortably.

Sweat beaded his brow as he fought away unwanted dreams. He squeezed Arthur’s hand tightly as he breathing began to pick up. Twitching and muttering into his pillow, Merlin shunned the images that were presented to him, trying desperately to escape the nightmares.

  


Arthur and Gwen were startled awake by a loud thump and the quaking of the bed that accompanied it. After peering over the mattress, Arthur leapt from the bed, finding Merlin on the floor, wide eyes darting around in delirium.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, kneeling down next to him. “Merlin, look at me!”

Gwen hopped down beside him and tried to place a comforting hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but he flinched and scrambled away.

Arthur shushed him as his breathing began to pick up again. “Alright, we won't touch you. Gwen, go get Gaius, I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

The queen nodded before rushing from the room.

Arthur inched closer but stopped as Merlin tensed. “Just breathe, Merlin,” he tried instead. Helplessly, the king watched as the boy kept struggling for air on the floor, eyes bright with fright.

After what seemed like an eternity, Gwen returned with Gaius and the old man ventured near his ward.

“Don’t touch him,” Arthur warned, but, to his surprise, Merlin welcomed his mentor’s presence.

Gaius knelt down beside Merlin and he lunged forward, gripping onto Gaius’s robes and huffing into his shoulder. The physician rubbed his back as he trained him how to breathe, gradually coaxing him back onto the bed where he procured a sleeping draught. Soon, Merlin was asleep once more, leaving a bewildered royal couple and a concerned medicine man in his wake.

“What happened to him, Gaius?” Arthur asked.

“Was it the veil?” Gwen questioned.

Gaius worried at his lip for a moment before answering. “I’m not entirely sure. He wasn’t coherent at all when he woke, but, with the way he was behaving, I’d say he had a vision”

“But Merlin isn’t a seer,” Gwen acknowledged, looking curiously down at the slumbering warlock.

“Indeed he is not,” Gaius confirmed. “However, he is susceptible to outside sources. He’s told you about the crystal cave, has he not?”

Arthur cringed. “He hates that place, no matter how much he may respect it.”

“If, in fact, this is a product of the veil, then I’d assume some thaumaturge or creature has been stimulated by the influence of the next realm.”

“And that’s affected Merlin?” Arthur inquired.

“It does seem so,” Gaius huffed as he turned to leave. “Call me when he wakes so that I might find out what’s happened.”

  


When Merlin did wake, he was drowsy and seemed to have overcome his fright. Unfortunately, whenever Gwen or Arthur tried to get close to him, he tensed or turned away into his pillow. Gaius was called and, oddly, Merlin allowed him to come close. Sitting on a stool by his bedside, the physician questioned him.

“I can’t remember what I saw,” Merlin admitted. He eyed Gwen and Arthur strangely. “I just . . . something happened to you. I don’t . . . I have a bad feeling.”

“Do you remember where you were?” Gaius asked. “Was anyone else with you?”

“No,” Merlin answered. “I just . . . I have a bad feeling about Arthur and Gwen.” Again, he looked at the two of them, brow knitted together. “It’s like they’re not themselves but something else.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “nothing’s happened to us. Whatever you saw, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“I . . . I know,” he admitted shyly, “but everything felt so wrong.”

“It’s alright, my boy,” Gaius said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You were disoriented. All we can do now is be cautious.”

Merlin hummed in agreement.

  


The day went on and Merlin gradually became more comfortable with his lovers. He was dingy, yes, but it was clear to Arthur and Gwen that he was trying to overcome the bad omens that surrounded them.

It wasn’t until later in the week that the warning bell went off.

  


“What’s happened?” Merlin asked frantically as he met the royal couple in the throne room.

They both inwardly cringed, seeing that his paranoia had resurfaced just when they thought it might ebb away completely.

“We don’t know yet,” Arthur admitted.

Leon approached them and they readied themselves for an explanation.

“Sire,” he reported, “two of our men have been found unconscious in the woods. Only one of them is responsive.”

“And the other?”

“He’s in a sort of daze, unable to speak or react, it seems.”

“Take us to them.”

  


There they sat, all settled around Sir Bedivere in Gaius’s chambers. Merlin’s eyes were elsewhere, though. He kept his wide eyed gaze locked on Sir Gereth, who was hunched over in a stool, staring out at nothing despite Gaius’s attempts at rousing him.

“We were out on our nightly patrol, sire,” he recalled, taking deep breaths between sentences. It was obvious that whatever they had encountered had exhausted him. “All seemed well until we started to hear a mantrum of music.”

“Music?” Merlin questioned, snapping his head around to face him. He suddenly recalled that detail of his vision, a small echo of sweet voices humming in the back of his head.

“Yes, music,” Bedivere confirmed. “It was the most lovely thing you could have ever heard! We were drawn to it. We found a party of ladies dancing at the edge of a stream. They were beautiful. They all were.”

“And what happened?” Gwen asked, drawing the knight out of his fantasies.

“They lured us. Their beauty was enchanting. We were fools, we were. We let them touch us . . . and then it felt as though all that we were was taken, stolen by their lust and greed. Gereth . . . he . . . I believe he was smarter than I. He kept crying . . .”

Merlin looked back at the unresponsive knight, only to be distracted by Gaius’s attentive stance. “Sirens!” he gasped.

“Sirens?” responded a chorus.

“Yes,” Gaius affirmed. “I have something on them in my books.” He withdrew an old tome on enchantresses and opened it up to a page decorated delicately in gold leaf and blue ink. “They take on the form of a loved one and feed off of their victim’s lust, satisfying their own,” Gaius summarized.

“Those women resembled none that I’d ever recognize,” Bedivere, countered.

Gaius looked up. “That explains why they affected Gereth far more greatly. They must have taken on the form of someone he loved.”

“That would explain him crying out,” Arthur realized.

“Where did these creatures come from?” Gwen asked Gaius.

“The veil,” Merlin answered. “They were excited by the veil.”

Solemnly, the physician nodded.

  


“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly to his servant as he readied the horses, “you know you don’t have to come.”

“And let you get yourself killed by a mirage of Gwen or I? I don’t think so.”

“We won’t fall into their trap, Merlin. Unlike Bedivere and Gereth, we know what awaits us. We’re prepared.”

“Yes, but I’d much rather you have an all powerful warlock to shoo the sirens away than not,” Merlin retorted as he climbed onto his horse.

Arthur sighed and did the same. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day,” he said, leading their small group of knights out into the forest.

  


The king had warned his men of the danger to come and advised each of them not to give in to the temptations of their loved ones or their dreams. Gaius had said that the best course of action when finding oneself enthralled is to look away and remember what it is they are truly facing. Each knight was encouraged to dispatch any creature that seemed to be overpowering one of their brothers as well.

They had left around noon, Gaius having said that they were only active at night. Setting up camp, Arthur kept looking over at Merlin, watching how he avoided everyone’s eye.

“You really shouldn’t come on the hunt with us,” Arthur advised, deeming suggestions useless and just outright telling Merlin what he thinks. “You’re too affected by all this.”

Merlin straightened. “I don’t care what you say, Arthur. I need to be there in case something happens. I had that vision for a reason and, every other time I’ve forseen future events, they’ve come true, no matter what I try. I might as well confront the sirens now rather than delay the inevitable.”

“But how do you even know that it was the sirens that you saw?”

“What else would make me feel so uneasy around you and Gwen?” Merlin questioned. “You heard Gaius; the reason these spirits are so active is the feebleness of the veil. You can’t tell me this isn’t related to the vision.”

Arthur sighed. “I just . . . if these things are here for you, I . . .”

Merlin swallowed. “I know,” he whispered, stepping closer. He took Arthur’s hands in his, but the king could feel the way they shook. “But, they’ll probably go after the more, er, _active_ knights, considering they feed off of lust and all.” He shrugged.

Arthur scoffed. “That’s why I left Gwaine behind.”

Humming, Merlin let go of his hands. “I’ll be fine,” he promised, neglecting to tell Arthur that the lust of a sorcerer was far more desirable among the spirits they were facing.

  


It wasn’t until the sun had finally dipped beneath the horizon that Arthur sent out his men, each armed with torch and a blade. Merlin followed his king, wielding their fire against the shadows of night as they made their way towards where Bedivere and Gereth had been attacked.

They snuck through the forest, keeping an eye on the stream as it came into view. It was Merlin, Arthur, and Percival that scoped out the east side of the river, the others having been divided similarly and sectioned off to other areas.

Percival was the first to hear it; the surreal ring in the air, making one’s hair stand on end. There were no words echoing through the trees, but a melodic hum and an enchanting voice that drew the attention of all who heard.

“Hey!,” Merlin whispered harshly, snapping both Arthur and Percival out of the trance the music ensnared them in.

Percival let out a breath in awe and Arthur blinked ferociously to clear his mind. “Press on,” he ordered. “Try not to listen.”

As the music got nearer, it became more and more difficult to ignore. In little time at all, blurred, bright figures could be seen through the brush, seemingly in endless movement. With the grace of gods, they danced in the moonlight, radiating nothing but beauty.

  


Amongst them, one stepped forwards. It was dizzying to see them move, seemingly translucent. However, once it got closer, more details began to materialize into a gorgeous feminine image.

It was Gwen, wearing a silky, thin dress that outlined her figure perfectly. She was almost luminescent as she slowly stepped towards them, eyes glinting with something familiar yet dangerously foreign.

Merlin watched as she walked up to Arthur, holding out her hand to him. It seemed the king was conflicted, unable to tear his eyes away from her golden, glowing image, but neither willing to reach out to her. Merlin felt something stir inside of him. He loved Gwen, truly. Not in the same way that he cared for Arthur, but, in that moment, it didn’t matter. Gwen was there, impossibly bright and consuming his whole world, and Arthur’s as well. He saw her out in these wild forests, wearing little but a nightgown, and wanted to protect her, hold her close so that no other man could lay a finger on her.

But then that feeling in his belly churned into something else, something awful. It was _wrong._ It was his vision. With a start, he looked away and nearly toppled over his own feet. For a moment he thought he was blinded by the image of her, but then he regained himself.

“Arthur!” he shouted, and the king turned to him, nearly falling as well.

The siren let out a long, drawn out note as if she were sad, left lonesome by the mens’ neglect. Merlin almost let guilt get the best of him and tried to look back at her, but Arthur gropped at his arm. “Look at _me,_ Merlin!” he shouted over the now deafening song. “Don’t look at her! Look at me! Our Gwen is back at home! This isn’t her!”

“This isn’t Gwen,” Merlin echoed, trying to convince himself as well as Arthur. It took every bit of will he had not look at her again. He could feel her coming closer, dancing and tempting them with the ends of her dress tapping against their sides. Arthur gripped his arm more tightly, however, keeping him anchored. In turn, he dug his nails into Arthur’s bicep, holding him back as well.

But the illusioned Gwen went a step further and began to lightly bump into them with her hips. Arthur seemed tempted, shaking in Merlin’s grasp. Then, Gwen swayed and tried to step between them, but her thigh rolled over Merlin’s hand and he jumped, letting out a shout and scrambling away from the mirage.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled as the siren advanced on his king.

Before she could lay a finger upon his golden head, Percival stepped in, bringing his torch down through her, causing her to disperse into mist.

When Merlin found purchase on the ground, Arthur lie sprawled out in the bushes, saved by the towering Percival and his fire. They sat there, all three of them panting with the terrifying thrill of it all.

A high note drew them out of their exhaustion, however, each of them turning to see the other spirits advancing from the distance.

“Run,” Merlin breathed. Percival tugged on his king’s arm, throwing him onto his feet before they began sprinting into the woods.

The sirens howled a hunting song as they went after them. Weaving in and out of trees, trying with all their might not to look back at the iridescent figures behind them, they found themselves running along the slope of a gully, the steep difference between each step making the terrain uneven and difficult for them to stay upright. So, naturally, Merlin fell.

Percival and Arthur shouted out as Merlin tumbled down into the trench, head over heels in a painful sumersault. He landed with a crash at the bottom, causing the world to spin around him.

After a moment of nauseating dizziness, he sat up. He could vaguely register the alarmed calls of his friends from above but his head was far too clouded to know what they were saying. It soon became clear to him, though, that the blinding army of lustful spirits was nearing at a grave rate.

He scrambled onto his feet and began running down the length of the ravine, Arthur and Percival mimicking his movements above. As he fled unsteadily through the narrow passage, he saw a few of the sirens advance to the side, cutting off the knights. For a moment he considered going back for them, but his path was blocked and the intriguing beasts were nearly upon him.

His heart jumped into his throat as a few flew past him, screeching out high frequency sing songs. He staggered to a halt as they surrounded him. Trying to block out their whimsical tune, he covered his ears.

Finding that they only took the form of someone he loved when he looked directly at them, he kept turning, pivoting on his heel to stop the images of his friends and family to manifest. Not looking at them was painful, though. They shone impossibly bright, seemingly blinding him until he finally gave in.

There was Gwen again and _oh_ she looked so fair, so golden in the woods at night under the moon.

Merlin shook his head and brought the memories of his vision to the forefront of his mind, drawing power and reassurance from his own paranoia.

He turned and saw Arthur, head tilted to the side, looking at him as if he were his world. He refused him, gave him the cold shoulder.

Then there was a stranger, a stranger made to look as beautiful as possible to Merlin’s eyes. But the sirens were fools. Merlin cared little of looks.

Soon it seemed there were no openings in the ring of spirits, all of them cooing and humming and trying desperately to woo. Merlin turned and jerked and spun and kept telling himself that it wasn’t Gwen and it wasn’t Arthur and that none of them were real. Gwen was home and Arthur was fighting a distance away. And it worked, it did. He forced himself to think of any other possibility other than them being before him like the sirens wanted him too. They encircled him and, just when he thought his mind was clear enough to cast a spell, he looked up.

There, standing before him, was Freya.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. He was able to resist Arthur and Gwen, convincing himself that they were imposters, but the shock of seeing her again made him freeze. He trembled where he stood, knees weak and knocking together as he looked up at her. Brown eyes swam with a beauty he’d never seen before and he longed to fall into them, get lost within her and share stories of old. She was like him, he remembered. She was cursed and afraid and he could confide in her and he wanted so very much to reach out to her now and pull her close.

He could hear Arthur shouting for him, mingled in with the voice of his knights that were all calling down to him, trying to get to him. But, the voices faded away, overwrought by the power of her song, her sad, sad, sympathetic song. He forgot, in that moment, as she glowed in the moonlight, pale and fair and returning to him at long last. His eyes glazed over with a tearful awe and he just watched as she came closer.

Slowly, she took his face in her hands and he was too stunned to move away. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was all fake, told him that this was a fraud and not his once beloved, just as lost as he once was. He ignored it, though, too ensnared by her beauty and her eyes, eyes that held so much hope and hurt that he wanted to be a part of.

His heart beat violently inside his chest as she tilted his head up, her nimble fingers on his chin, and kissed him. His hands were numb at his sides and part of him wanted this so much. He let her take him, wield him onto his knees. She knelt beside him, kissing him still. For a moment, he panicked, unable to breathe, but then she kissed him again and he didn’t care. She pushed him backwards, lying him down gently as he went limp, and climbed on top of him.

  


Arthur’s stomach churned at the sight of the siren advancing on Merlin. He clenched his fist and lunged down into the gully. He managed a few steps before he rolled through the overgrowth and into the circle of sirens.

He brandished his torch, pushing through the wall they began to form around the ensnared warlock. Swinging the fire at them, he charged forth, the knights mirroring his actions from other angles, trying with all their might to reach their friend in the middle.

At last, he dispatched a spirit and found a clear path to Merlin behind her. He sprinted onwards, but one, large siren stood between them, abandoning her human illusion and opting instead to glow blindingly bright before the king. He shielded his eyes but her song grew higher in pitch. He dropped his torch as he covered his ears, doubling over before her. She loomed over him, enclosing him with her now enormous body. Frantically, he searched the ground with his hands and, just when she was about to embrace him with her mighty form, he held up his torch, striking her through the middle.

Ears ringing, Arthur crawled unsteadily forwards, climbing to his feet. He yelled as he struck Merlin’s siren, releasing him from her spell as she turned to mist before his eyes.

There, he dropped to his knees before his lover and watched as his eyes looked up at the distant nothingness. His mouth partially open and body limp, Arthur hefted him into his arms.

The battle continued around him; his knights defeating and warding off the treacherous spirits that attacked Merlin. That was all muffled beneath his grief, however. Despite the breath that passed through Merlin’s lips, he couldn’t help but feel that something was taken from him.

  


Gwen held her hand over her mouth in horror as Arthur explained to her what had happened. Her tears fell freely as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. His hands felt numb as he hugged her back, wishing they could be at Merlin’s side whilst Gaius examined him, but the physician had forbidden visitors for the time being.

When they were permitted to see him, they fought to hold their composure at the sight of him, empty and unresponsive, propped up in his bed. Just as Gereth had been, he remained hollow for nearly three days. Gwen and Arthur seldom left his side, aiding Gaius in feeding and tending to him.

After what felt like ages, Merlin finally woke. Arthur and Gwen both had fallen asleep by his bedside, slumped over in their chairs. Merlin’s eyes opened and, for a brief moment, he couldn’t remember anything. However, that moment quickly passed and all of the memories came flooding back to him. Drowning in his experience, he let out a sob that startled the royal couple awake. They both whispered and cooed, trying to comfort the victimized boy. Soon, his sheets and shirt were drenched in tears and he had coiled in on himself on the bed. Arthur moved to place a comforting hand on his back, but Merlin quivered at the touch and he withdrew. Gaius prescribed him a sleeping draught and, oddly, Merlin took it eagerly.

Arthur felt like he was going to vomit. No, he could not entirely comprehend what he must be going through, but he could sympathize. He knew that Merlin hated to be touched in any but the small, tender, miniscule ways and, from what he saw . . . The sirens were cruel. Though Bedivere and Gereth might not have been so easily traumatized, they too were still invaded by the foul spirits. The things they did to Merlin . . . He didn’t want to imagine what internal war he was going through.

Gwen’s heart ached for him. She couldn’t even begin to understand what he must be feeling, to have been taken advantage of, like how Arthur described. Truly, she felt nothing but compassion. Something irked her, though. The way Arthur had spoken of the attack made her feel as though she was missing something. He sounded betrayed. Beyond the shaky voice and trembling composure, there was something lost inside of him. She began to reflect on what the sirens were and what they could do. Then, unable to resist the temptation, she pondered who exactly it was that the sirens made him see.

It was clear that Merlin was sensitive on the subject. For days after he awoke he rarely spoke at all, as if he were afraid he’d be sick the moment he opened his mouth. Arthur wished he knew how to comfort him, but he could do little but talk to him, pretend that all was well. He didn’t dare ask about the girl the siren presented to him, not while he was in this sorry state. In turn, Gwen didn’t question Arthur on the subject. The king was a mess with Merlin so prone to anxiety and the queen too was wary of triggering the boy unintentionally. Every step they took was a slippery slope. For the first time in a long time, the three of them were cautious around one another.

  


It wasn’t until two weeks or so after he’d returned that Merlin reached out to them. He had been sleeping, curled in on himself as he had been the past few days, when he suddenly jolted awake from a terrible memory manifested into an intensified nightmare.

Arthur had been there, half awake. He sat up abruptly to Merlin’s cries, watching him with a careful eye, should he need anything. However, as he wept, he did something he had not previously done and held out his hand, looking pleadingly up at Arthur. The king took it, held it tightly and lightly pressed his fingers to his lips. Merlin let out a wet sob as he shook and he crawled into Arthur’s arms.

Gwen was startled awake and looked at the two of them, hope rising in her chest as she saw Merlin clinging onto Arthur. Said man looked back at her with watery eyes. She came closer and knelt on the bed, rubbing circles into Merlin’s back.

Gaius, filled with fret, appeared at the door. Addressing the situation, he left to return moments later with cool water. Gwen took it from him gratefully and presented it to Merlin, who had finally begun to calm.  He sniffled and climbed out of Arthur’s lap, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Taking the water from Gwen, he took small sips, avoiding everyone’s eye by staring down into his cup.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the water in his hand.

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen cooed.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Merlin,” Arthur stated, though a dreadful doubt snuck into his mind as he thought about that girl. He swallowed, hoping for the life of him that the hurt boy before him had not involved himself in some affair.

Merlin let out a short, forceful breath, clearing his throat a bit. He brought his sleeve to his nose and rubbed it raw but dry. Gwen placed her hand on his back. He shivered. Arthur quickly took the cup from Merlin as he began trembling, fearful that he may drop it. Then, the boy leaned over and retched violently onto the floor. Gaius sucked in a breath and scurried out to fetch a bucket.

Grimacing down at the watery bile, Arthur pulled Merlin’s attention away from it, anxious to distract him from the mess he made. Gwen put herself between him and Gaius, blocking Merlin’s bashful eyes from watching his mentor clean. The queen took up a rag from the bedside table and wiped Merlin’s mouth clean.

When she was done, Merlin took her hands in his and returned them to her, placing them in her lap. Arthur offered up the water once more but Merlin refused it.

In companionable silence they sat, the room mute but for their breaths and the distant sounds of Gaius now working in the main room.

“I know . . .” Merlin started. His voice cracked and he swallowed his sorrows. “I know you . . . want to know . . . Arthur.” Lifting his head, he looked up at his king.

Gwen eyes flickered between them, her brows brought together in suspicion.

Arthur sighed, offering Gwen an apologetic look. Then, he licked his lips and turned to his poor man. “I do not wish to intrude on your troubles. Yes, I am aghast as to what I saw, but I would rather not have you explain yourself before you were ready.”

Merlin gulped. “I cannot say that I will ever be ready, milord, but, presently, I am willing.”

Arthur let out a long, resigned breath. “Very well. Do you give me permission to ask this of you before our queen?”

“Of course,” Merlin whispered, nodding to Gwen, who still appeared bemused.

“How was a siren able to lure you into submission by the means of a foreign and fair lady?”

Gwen gasped and quickly brought her hands to her mouth to keep from making further startled noises.

Merlin closed his eyes. “She's . . . she was not so foreign for a time.”

“She is from Camelot?”

“No,” Merlin answered. “Neither did she reign from nor did she remain, but she was here, in my custody for some time.”

Arthur bit his lip. “And you are still in touch with this woman?”

Merlin grimaced. “Yes, in a way.”

“Merlin, if you are committing some form of adultery . . .”

“Arthur!” Gwen cried.

Merlin sputtered through fresh tears. “Do not accuse me of such a thing in these moments, Arthur. I cannot bear such ill thoughts.”

At Merlin's woe, Arthur receded his anger. “Then I incline you to continue,” he ground out.

“She was brought into Camelot by a bounty hunter,” Merlin explained.

Guilt swelled in Arthur’s throat, knowing all too well that his kingdom no longer received human bounty. This was a tale of the long since passed.

“Gaius had warned me against such actions, but I defied him and freed her. At the time, the fate of such a girl was cruel. Her and I were the same, however, and I could not leave her behind in good conscience knowing well that it could have been I that man sold to the pyre.

“For days I kept her beneath the castle, bringing her food and gifts as the kingdom danced around us in search for the girl and her harborer. I longed for her company so much, for she was able to understand the weight of having something forced upon you, living with a power that no man could attest to. She made me feel . . . less alone.

“I loved her, Arthur, Gwen, I truly did. I am sorry if that knowledge irks you in some way, but she was so much hope in such a troubling time that I could not help but delve into her sympathy; so much so that it turned into something more.”

A look of dismay encompassed Merlin’s face, regret sparkling in his eyes. “We were going to run away together. We were going to leave Camelot and never dare look over our loaded shoulders.” He laughed defeatedly at himself. “I can’t believe how stupid an idea it was, but, in the moment, it was all I could ever wish for.”

“Something happened,” Gwen noted sadly.

Merlin failed at holding back his sobs. His hand clamped over his mouth, he nodded. “She was cursed,” he continued through hiccuping breaths. “She . . . I didn’t know. We were preparing to leave, but . . . she didn’t want me to know that she . . .” He looked up at his friends, eyes bright with remorse. “She turned into a beast in the night. She killed people, Arthur.” He turned away from Gwen, focusing on his king. “She didn’t want to. She was trying run away, trying to protect me before I left everything behind for something so horrid.” He choked on his words and coughed into his hands. “You slayed her,” he strained. “She tried to run but you cornered her. You . . . she turned into a bastet and you killed her.”

Gwen looked wide eyed at Arthur, who look utterly mortified by the claim. For once in his life, he completely panicked, shaking fit to fly apart. He remembered, with sudden clarity, the druid girl and the fear in her eyes as he backed her into the dead end of an alley.

“Oh!” Gwen pipped, throwing her arms over the two men, bringing them all together into one tearful huddle.

  


Merlin’s recovery seemed to quicken after his confessions. He talked more, was more willing to eat. He still held himself in a reserved manner, making himself small and congested as though he were constantly protecting his modesty.

Arthur, however, did not take the information he was given well. He tried to keep his composure in front of Merlin, but he couldn’t always contain his grief. Merlin was not at all blind to the moments when guilt overcame his king, causing him to go distant and quiet at times. It drove Merlin mad some days.

Gwen retired to her own chambers the nights following the siren’s attack. None of them dared to share a bed whilst Merlin was in such a vulnerable state. Even on their own, they couldn’t rest, nightmares plaguing every slumbering hour.

Gwen dreamt of Merlin, lying cold and weak on the forest floor, looking into the treacherous face of the woman he loved as he drew his last breath.

Merlin woke in fits, though less severe than when he first came home, reliving his experience. The only difference was that, in the dream, it was not a siren who attacked him, but friends who betrayed him. Freya, Arthur, Gwen; they all would take claim of him, overstep the boundaries that he treasured in reality. Gaius prescribed a sleeping draught, promising him dreamless nights.

Arthur stirred to the memories of a young druid girl, once thought to be treacherous now seen as she truly was; afraid. He saw the fear in her eyes that he had overlooked when she was slain, the regret and woe that consumed her when she turned into that beast. Then, he would hear Merlin’s cries. Heart clenching, he would watch as he cradled her dying body, wondering why on earth he thought Arthur should be forgiven.

  


At long last, Gaius decided that the bulk of Merlin’s trauma had passed, allowing him to return to his normal routine.

He woke Arthur that morning, tugging the curtains broad and letting the light of dawn beam down on the king's eyelids.

Groggily, Arthur woke, slowly sitting up against his pillows. Merlin left to fetch breakfast before Arthur had the mind to realize who had drawn him from his slumber.

Balancing a tray of eggs, fruits, and cheeses, Merlin held the door for himself with his magic, before setting the dishes and a pitcher of water down on the table. When he looked up, Arthur was staring at him with vulnerable, blue eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin slowly said. “What . . .”

“Why are you back?”

“What?” Merlin started.

“I . . . How could you have just . . . forgiven me like that? I killed her, Merlin . . . And you just . . . She meant the world to you and i—”

 _“You_ mean the world to me, you prat. Gwen means the world to me. I knew you well enough, even then, that I could not hold you at fault.” He stopped and took a deep breath to hold his composure. “She was _killing_ people, _your_ people. I don't blame you for protecting them.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur sobbed, stumbling into Merlin’s arms and clinging onto him. Shame stung his heart for moment as he realized that he was _touching_ him so soon after the ordeal. He was flooded with relief, however, when Merlin did not flinch or tremor as he hugged him back, instead holding him tightly. Merlin felt safe again, in Arthur’s presence, and the king was thankful that the comfort he wanted had not triggered him.

Gwen strode in and let out a hiccup of a laugh, running in to join them. Arthur saw her coming and held out his arm before pulling her in. He promptly turned her head towards him, planting a relieved kiss on her lips. Then, he looked to Merlin, wary of his limits, only for the boy to lean forward and peck the king's lips himself. Arthur let out a bark of a laugh, holding his lovely wife and his modest lover close, together, whole again.

  


Things slowly began to slip back into place, everyone easing back into normality. Merlin was up and about, performing his usual duties; aiding Arthur, attending meetings, helping Gaius, and doing his own research in the tower he had been gifted a while back.

Arthur did well to smother any guilt he had for the death of Freya, Merlin always more than eager to put his doubts to rest whenever the king’s self-blaming feelings resurfaced.

Gwen was the paste that held them all together. She hadn’t seen the siren’s attack Merlin, nor did she witness the death of his lover. She was directly unaffected and therefore it was easier for her to deal with the stress the situation presented. Thus, the queen was a steady, guiding hand for both the king and the magician whenever they lapsed too terribly.

It was months before Merlin was comfortable sharing a bed with his family. Arthur and Gwen had hardly slept together either due to his absence, considering that they both agreed that his reluctance was not entirely a choice and rather a necessary precaution to his past trauma. Merlin insisted that they not retreat from each other at his expense, however, and they accompanied one another in bed some nights until Merlin finally was recovered enough to join them.

On that night, there was a soft knock on Arthur’s chamber door as the royal couple was preparing for bed. Fatigued from a long day, Arthur sighed and trudged across the floor. He was slightly startled by a fidgeting Merlin who looked small in the wide doorway as he looked at the tops of his boots.

In a stammering voice, he asked if he was intruding and if he might possibly spend the night in the royal chambers like he once had. Before Arthur could even answer, Gwen was cooing and coddling Merlin, assuring him that he was more than welcome so long that he was sure that he was ready.

He was.

He awoke in the morning, not with the terrible tremors or the slick shiver down his spine that he anticipated, but with a broad smile on his face. He marveled at Arthur’s fingers still entwined with his and the familiarity of Gwen’s calm, fair face resting on Arthur’s breast. Letting out a content sigh, he looked up and watched as Arthur slowly awoke, letting him gradually come to. He blinked his tired eyes at him before realizing that Merlin was awake. He smiled at how content he seemed.

With a jolt, Merlin bent towards him, pressing a light kiss on his king’s lips. Arthur let out a soft laugh, thankful that Merlin felt comfortable enough to do such a thing. The rumble of his chest, woke Gwen and she grinned down at the sight that greeted her; Merlin awake and unafraid.

Merlin sat up in bed, meeting Gwen above Arthur’s pinned form. He rested his hands on her shoulders and let her kiss his cheek.

Arthur grumbled about being buried alive in his own bed, causing Gwen and Merlin to laugh as they almost got plowed onto the floor by their king's attempts at sitting up.

They called for a servant, much to Merlin's reluctance, and had the lass bring them breakfast. Merlin still did not feel comfortable having others wait on him but he was learning to simply appreciate their service.

They ate together contently, the morning light turning the white walls gold, an omen of their good fortune and slow but sure road to recovery.

  


It wasn’t until the next Samhain that they revisited the events that happened on that dark day. After speaking with Gaius privately, the king and queen devised a plan to take Merlin on an outing.

It took a tremendous amount of persuasion and brute force to drag Merlin out of his rooms, but they eventually got him outside and saddled, much to his displeasure. He’d much rather stay locked in the confines of his room than wander out into the natural world where the spirits could seep through more easily.

“Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?” Merlin asked.

Arthur and Gwen shared a guilty look. Merlin was obviously miserable, but they were almost sure he’d enjoy what they had prepared for him.

When they neared, they dismounted and began a small trek to a nearby clearing. There was nothing in the world that could prepare their magician for the sight they had revealed to him, though. His eyes, glossy and wide, stared longingly at the lake before them, lost in the depths of it.

Just when the royals thought he was going to smile, he turned to them, face grim and eyes distraught.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“What?” Arthur questioned.

Merlin resisted the contort of his muscles, not wishing to burden Arthur or Gwen with his heavy woes. He gestured to the glistening waters behind him. “This place—Why would you take me here? Why . . . Why _today?”_

“Merlin, we—” Gwen started.

“What? How is this supposed to help?” he snapped. “The last time I saw her . . . It wasn’t even truly her, but it had her _face!_ It-it-She _died_ in my arms! I had but a short time to remember her by but now . . . whenever I think of her I can’t help but see that _thing!”_

“Merlin, please. You haven’t—”

“You dragged me out here, out of my room, directly into the jaws of what I was trying to forget!” He kicked at the soft ground, tossing up clumps of sodden earth. “And today? Why?” He began to exert himself, tears leaking onto his cheeks and sobs fueling his speech. “Why bring me here? Why today when I . . .”

“Merlin,” Gwen sighed.

Arthur stepped forwards, placing his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. He nearly retracted when the boy tensed, but pushed onward. “Today, Merlin. Think about today. _Samhain,_ Merlin. What does that mean?”

“Arthur, I—”

“Look at me.” He shook him. “Forget about those creatures. What happens today?”

Merlin stared blankly back at his king. “Today . . . the veil is at its thinnest.”

Gwen smiled and Merlin caught her eye. She nodded towards the lake behind him and he followed her gaze. Turning slowly, he braved himself for what would await him.

He gasped, tears falling anew, at the elegant figure standing in the lake's center. Merlin stared out at her, unable to believe his own eyes. A hand urged him forwards and he spun around to look questioningly at his king.

He smiled. The queen nodded once more. “Go on,” she tempted.

Merlin's face split into a wide grin as his feet carried him away, rushing into the water with no regard to his dry clothes or boots.

He strode against the water, falling over himself in his haste. Soon he could no longer touch the bottom of the lake and was struggling to stay on his toes to push forward. She met him there, gliding through the water with ease.

They both stopped, just sorry of an arms length apart. Merlin stood, balancing on a protruding stone beneath the surface. The king and queen watched with weighted breath as he looked in awe at her yet stood rigid and shivering in the cold, bitter water.

Merlin went stock stiff under her gaze. She was standing above him, impossibly suspended about a head higher than he, and meeting his eyes with her own sad, brown ones. A thin lipped smile crept onto her face and Merlin gulped, watching her mouth in fear that an eerie song would burst from her throat and take hold of him once more. A tear dripped down his cheek as her lips slowly parted.

“Hello, Merlin.”

And, all at once, the fear was forgotten, made a distant thing by the old twist of love in his chest. Freya smiled and fell down into the water. Merlin collected her into his arms, laughing and red faced as they came together for the first time in far too long.

He brought her back to shore, where Gwen and Arthur were waiting expectantly. Merlin was beyond speechless so Freya stepped ahead of him and addressed the royal couple with an approving eye.

“You have a beautiful family,” she told him.

Unable to take his eyes off of her, in shock as he was, Merlin practically fell onto the grass beside where Arthur and Gwen had seated themselves.

Freya came forward and placed a kiss on Merlin's cheek. Then, he watched as she moved on to Arthur. The king swallowed and struggled to suppress his trembling.

As if she were able to read his thoughts, she told him, “You are forgiven,” and met his brow with her lips. “Thank you for loving Merlin and caring for him and your queen.”

Leaving Arthur and taking the weight of his chest with her, she turned to Gwen. Kissing her brow, she said, “Thank you. You have been kind to all you have known. Lancelot wishes that I fare you well.”

The ghost of lancelot’s name danced on Gwen’s stunned lips.

“He is content that you have found happiness. It is all he could have wished for you.”

Gwen gave a small, sad laugh. “It’s all he _ever_ wished for me.”

Freya nodded and took her place in the grass beside them. It was silent for a long time, all of them looking at each other, nervously mute. But then Merlin started laughing. He sputtered and covered his mouth as he repressed tears and tried to stop his trembling. The stress of everything was overwhelming yet numbing, leaving Merlin an utter mess of emotions.

Arthur touched Merlin’s shoulder, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes. When Merlin hiccuped and leaned into him, he took it as a sign that he was okay with physical affection at the moment, so he pulled him into a hug. Freya came to his other side and wrapped an arm around almost both their shoulders, her hand settling in the small of Arthur’s back. Gwen crawled closer and sat at Merlin's front, placing her hands on his knees. Then she leaned in until her brow touched his. Arthur let his head roll off Merlin’s temple to settle next to theirs and Freya too pressed her forehead to theirs.

They sat like that, breaths mingling and hearts pounding in their ears, for a long, slow moment that made the world feel too small for them and their thoughts and feelings. They were so utterly enormous in that moment that they breathed together and the trees bent. Their hearts kept thudding and thumping so great in volume and unison that the earth shook beneath them. And when they broke apart, it was because Merlin has begun to laugh and had to sit back to wipe the tears from his eyes.

From there they shared stories and tales of the living realm and the following one, Freya telling tales of their long gone friends and families and how they thought of them now and Arthur poking fun at Merlin whenever he had the chance. Though all faces were wet and all chests were huffing, there was a smile on every face, with curled lips and flushed cheeks, speaking just as profoundly as the words. And promises.

The day moved on without them and, soon, it was growing dark and Arthur deemed it too late to travel back to the city. They had not packed any provisions or bedrolls, but the grass by Freya’s lake was soft and dry. Arthur laid out his cape near the shore and Merlin spread his jacket out beside it. Gwen retrieved her riding cloak from the horses and lengthened the spread as well.

They tried to get comfortable, all of them lying in a circle, the tops of their heads meeting in the center. Together, they beheld the transformation of the sky, the death of the sun, the birth of the stars. Their eyes grew heavy. Their hearts grew weary and warm. Their breaths synchronized. They slept, smiles tugging on their lips.

 

Merlin woke in the morning feeling like his steaming heart had been distinguished by a brisk rain. He sat up, looked to his king and to his queen, and his heart ached. With the day, Freya had gone, but she still throbbed in his chest and danced on the tips of his trembling fingers as Arthur helped him up off the ground. Silently, they packed their bags and mounted their horses, headed steadfast towards home.

As the forest swallowed them up, and the lake began to shrink in the distance, Merlin looked over his shoulder, sending his love out towards his lady, wishing she were with them on her own horse.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said, noticing his forlorn look. “We’ll come back next year.” 


End file.
